“Ah! now it steps out. It’s got a hump.”
“Got the hump, mother? My word! then it must be either a camel or an undischarged bankrupt! Which is it, pretty soul?”
“It’s a rhinoceros. It’s moving to you.”
“Yokohama, mother! Tell the pretty bird to keep back! What’s it mean?”
“It’s a sign of plenty.”
“Plenty of what, mother? The ready or the nose-bag? Give us a chance!”
“Plenty of good fortune, because its head is towards you. If it had presented its tail, it would mean black weather.”
“Don’t let it turn tail, for Saturday’s sake, mother. Keep its head straight while I finish the brandy!”
And so saying, little Mr. Moses, with elaborate furtiveness, caught up the tumbler, poured its contents down his throat, and threw himself back on the divan with the air of a man who had just escaped from peril by the consummate personal exercise of unparalleled and sustained ingenuity.
During this scene Miss Minerva had preserved her air of pronounced Scottish good sense, while listening attentively, and she now said to Eureka,—